


no harm intended (no harm)

by Magnus (Magnus_Rushesin)



Category: Frankenstein - Mary Shelley, Original Work
Genre: Gen, im a simple man i think about siblings i go apeshit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-11
Updated: 2019-11-11
Packaged: 2021-01-27 13:14:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21392743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Magnus_Rushesin/pseuds/Magnus
Summary: the creature has never had a bath and victor feels terrible about it.///this is Magnus' sad about siblings hour and im legally obligated to post this.
Relationships: Original Female Character & Original Male Character
Kudos: 9





	no harm intended (no harm)

For five weeks since they had returned to Genova, Victor did not acknowledge her presence. Not that she expected him to. But during the fifth week, it began to rain. The sky was so dark and heavy with clouds through the day, she could scarcely tell that it had turned to night when the first drop of rain hit her skin.   
And the wind blowed, and a shutter closed on a window in the house. His eyes met hers as he closed each window. And when the back door to the house opened, he did not move to close it.   
As he walked away, the creature saw this for what it was. An invitation.  
So she slid through the door, quiet as she could, shutting it behind her. And as she moved through the house and found Victor in the kitchen, wordlessly placing a kettle on the stovetop, he didn't acknowledge her, not so much as a glance.  
So she stood where she was, trying her best not to drip the rainwater on his floors, and trying not to notice the leak in the ceiling.   
When enough time had passed in silence, the kettle squealed for attention, and Victor poured two cups of tea. He handed one to her without a word, and took a seat in a large, ornate chair, picking a book up from a side table and beginning to read. No longer content to stand, the creature leaned against the far wall, sliding down to sit on the floor. She took a few sips of the tea. It was warm. If she had been able to feel the chill of the wind and the rain, she imagined it would be a rather nice cup of tea to have. It was nice, even if she wasn't cold. It's the thought that counts.  
...  
That was months ago, now.  
Now, the creature had named herself Aja.   
Now, every night, Victor made a cup of tea and sat down to read. Most nights, Aja sat with him.   
With time, as she grew braver and more comfortable, she moved closer to him, and as she did, he began to notice things about her that he hadn't seen before.  
Mostly, Victor realized that the poor thing was filthy. She seemed covered in dirt, her hand and her bare feet covered with mud, grime stuck beneath her nails. Her clothes, the clothes he had carefully sewn by hand, had been reduced to rags, hardly holding themselves together they were so stained with mud, with soot, with what looked like blood. Her own, no doubt, the colour was too dark to be human. And her hair, her once so beautiful hair was absolutely decimated. It was tied in horrible, incredible knots, with twigs and leaves and God only knows what else stuck in it. The tips were burnt and uneven, and the smell of soot followed her wherever she went. Victor began to wonder whether the girl had ever had a bath.   
He reached out and plucked a small twig from her hair, and Aja bristled at the contact.   
"When did you last wash?" he asked, attempting to feign disgust, disdain, or at the very least some semblance of apathy.  
"What do you mean?" she asked.  
"A bath? With soap?"  
"A what?"  
"You know what a bath is, you _must_ know what a bath is."  
"Not personally, no."  
"Tell me you at least brush your hair?" He already knew the answer.  
"It's not exactly something that I have had many chances for, is it? Besides, I wouldn't.. i wouldn't know how." she trailed off at the end, and the weight of the world came crashing down onto Victor's chest.   
She was so young.  
All this time. All this time he had managed to forget that her time on this earth had been so short. She had hardly even been alive for four years. She was so, so smart, but she was still only a child, wasn't she? At the very least, something near one.  
How could he have done this? How could he have let this happen?  
He took a deep breath, swallowed his guilt, and stood up. He turned to face her, offering her his hand.  
"Come with me?"  
She stared at him for a moment, her slitted pupils wide with curiosity, before taking his hand in her own, much larger one. He guided her through the old house and drew her a bath. While she sat in the soapy water, taking in the new experience, Victor took a comb and carefully, gently began to go through her hair. He remembered her hair, the feeling of it in his hands. Once, it had been thick and soft, so beautiful it seemed to shine. That was a long, long time ago, and the world had seemed to take any sliver of beauty from her. He thought about that as he brushed through the tangled nest of dark hair.  
He brushed it for hours. When she decided she was done bathing, they simply moved to have her sitting on the floor as Victor stood over her, working it carefully, trying not to hurt her too much as he went. At the end of it all, when the work was done, Victor carefully and masterfully wove it into a braid with his craftsmans hands. His hands followed the motions of his memories, of braiding his own hair, of braiding Elizabeth's, and he hardly managed to stop himself from pressing a kiss to her forehead when he was done, the way he always had for his little sister.  
When he was finished, she stood and looked at herself in the mirror. He couldn't read her expression, somewhere between gratitude and joy and something else, something he couldn't recognize. But as tears welled in her eyes and she turned to pull him into a hug, wrapping him up in her strength, crying onto his shoulder, he felt it too. As he rubbed her back, told her it would all be alright, he knew what it was.   
He was never going to be a father to Aja. He had squandered any chance at that. But this, he could do. This, he knew.   
Victor Frankenstein could never be a father, but he could be a brother. 


End file.
